


The Night Before the Siege

by RenaRoo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: The night before he is to lead the Unsullied, Grey Worm is called to Missandei’s chambers and he must face his greatest fear. What he worries about most.





	The Night Before the Siege

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write something to sort of jar my writing energy again in the middle of a bit of self-imposed writing break and rewatching GoT led from one thing to another haha. I do sincerely love these two characters and I hope they only get more love in the final season and in the fandom because they’re amazing and deserve it.

She is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. His Missandei.

It is wrong to think  _his._ They are not owned. They are not slaves or property. Not anymore.

Yet they are each others in that they belong with one another, that he is sure of. That he knows, down to the very Unsullied soul that the Masters tried to rip out of him through his ground teeth and blistered back.

Even in the face of leaving her side, Grey Worm knows as surely as he knows he will die for his queen, that in one life or in one form or another, he belongs beside Missandei, the kindest and most beautiful. The smartest and the most lovable.

“Missandei,” he says, head bowed until his forehead touches the skin of her knee.

“Yes?” she asks. Her words are crisp and purposeful, unlike any voice he has heard before in his life. He loves the way her tongue rolls and her lips purse.

They are so unlike Grey Worm’s too large and slow tongue, full of weight and dryness that inhibits his every utterance with a lack of confidence. He feels, even then, with Missendei’s warm flesh touching his own, his throat tightens back and suppresses him.

Silence was a virtue beaten into his bones. Language flows through Missendei’s blood.

They are from entirely different worlds despite the chapters of their lives lining up so completely.

Grey Worm wants to be deserving of Missendei, wants to rise himself to the level he so admires. The desire of it is so strong that his calloused hands tremble against Missendei’s beautiful candlelit skin. He breathes her in and shudders as he exhales.

“What is wrong?” she asks him, her voice full of concern. She begins to raise up, to care over him like she had when the Sons of the Harpy rendered him almost invalid.

He can’t allow her, though.

With the tremble escaping his hands, Grey Worm reaches up and catches Missendei’s nimble waist. Her smooth muscles and skin tighten but she doesn’t resist his guidance.

“Missendei…” Grey Worm says lowly, pulling his head from her knees so that he can see her face, her eyes, under the flicker of her chamber candles. “What… I want to say… the words… They are hard.”

Her dark eyes shine with empathy. “Words always are,” she attempts to soothe him.

“No. Not for you,” he argues. “I… My words are not strong enough yet, Missendei. Not strong enough for you.”

“Shh,” she continues to coax him. She reaches forward enough to brush her fingertips against Grey Worm’s cheeks. “Words are not everything.”

Grey Worm feels the heat of his own breath against Missendei’s body. “No. They are not.”

His tremble returning, Grey Worm traces his hands down Missendei’s sides, to her hips, and holds her steady. He doesn’t have the beautiful poetry that flows through Missendei’s words, but he can show her his love, his appreciation, his respect.

Missendei shifts beneath him comfortably and Grey Worm’s hands reach her thighs where he can at last separate them.

His tongue is no longer too large or too slow as he wetly presses kisses into Missendei’s leg. He raises himself to his knees and leans forward. There is no more trembling from Grey Worm’s end, but the instant that his lips meet Missendei’s, the trembling becomes contagious.

Love. That word causes Grey Worm’s voice and mind so much trouble, he can hardly utter it, but he knows he can show it.

He shows it and feels it in a way that he can only hope will let her know that he is hers. That he will continue to be hers even as he sails seas and lays down his wife in the name of their queen.

Missendei’s hands grasp his scalp, nails raking across his hair as her back arches forward.

“I love you,” she wails and moans, over and over again as her lips purse and her tongue rolls.

And Grey Worm continues to answer in the way he best can.

By the night’s end, they both are hoarse from their confessions, holding each other as the candles burn to the last of their wick.

In the morning they will serve their queen an ocean apart from each other, but could never forget the powerful love they shared this night before the siege.


End file.
